


Through Isabela's Eyes

by ambrolen



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrolen/pseuds/ambrolen
Summary: A one shot for a during-game-events Merrill/Isabela story I've been meaning to write





	Through Isabela's Eyes

It was noisy in the Hanged Man as it always was this time of the evening. Hawke and company had pushed several tables together and were loudly arguing and laughing and talking about their most recent exploits.

Isabela, who had recently taught Merrill the “rules” of Wicked Grace, was now watching on proudly as the elf cheated a blustering Carver out of the coin he had earned that day. Merrill laughed good naturedly and handed half of her winnings back to the poor fool, though Isabela noticed in that same movement, she also grabbed the ace Carver had accidentally shown to be sitting at the top of the draw pile. Chuckling to herself, she focused her attention back to Varric, who was regaling them with one of his many wild tales of the Deep Roads, and lost herself in the moment.

As the night wound down and the party began to disperse, Isabela couldn’t help but notice Carver lingering at Merrill’s side. An odd feeling washed over her. Protectiveness, maybe? That didn’t seem quite right; Kitten didn’t need to be protected, after all. She dismissed the feeling before she had the opportunity to over-analyze it, and waited behind to tease Carver after Merrill bid him farewell.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Isabela asked, startling Carver out of his daze.

“What? No. I mean, yes of course. I mean. I was just. Thought I’d walk her home, but…” he sighed. “Yes. Maker, yes, she’s pretty.”

“I’m quite surprised, Carver. I didn’t think you’d go for the blood mage, considering how well you get along with your sister.”

Carver frowned. “She’s not like that, Isabela.”

“Not like what? A blood mage? I must have had some vivid hallucinations recently, then, because I swear when we took down those slavers, there was some sizzling of blood and an awful lot of magic going on,” Isabela laughed.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“And what did you mean, love?”

“I mean… I mean she’s…” Carver gestured vaguely and sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair. “She’s not what we were told blood mages were like. She’s not mindless with power or greed. She’s not enslaved to a demon. She’s not dangerous. She’s fragile and delicate and… pure. She expects the best out of everyone, and I just want to shape the world into what she believes it to be.”

Isabela was silent for a moment. “Is that… Is that the way you truly see her?”

“Yes,” Carver said resolutely. “Yes I do. I just wonder if she’ll ever be able to see me in as positive as a light.”

The two of them stood there in silence, each in their own thoughts, then Carver stretched and said, “Well, I better head back home. Who knows what trouble my sister will get us into tomorrow.”

Isabela laughed. “Good night, Carver.”

Back in her room at the Hanged Man, Isabela laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Is that how Carver truly saw Merrill? Did others see her that way? It bewildered her. When Isabela looked at Merrill, she did not see fragility and naievity. She did not see someone who wasn’t dangerous. She saw a fierce blood mage who would protect those she loved at all costs. A strong woman who wouldn’t back down from what she knew to be right, even when all others were against her. And in no way did she see her as “pure” as Carver did. The woman was full of bawdy elven phrases, which she gleefully traded with Isabela for their human counterparts. Yes, Merrill saw the best in people, but that just made her stronger, not in more need of protection.

Isabela sighed. But maybe all Merrill needed was someone who doted upon her as Carver did, not someone to trade dirty stories with. Not that Isabela was interested in being more, of course. Just, well, hypothetically speaking, Carver was probably a more desirable romantic partner. Not that it matters.

Emotions welled up in Isabela’s chest that she didn’t care to feel or even recognize. So, as she had been doing so often lately, she pushed those uncomfortable and indescribable feelings away and hoped for a dreamless sleep.


End file.
